Verge
by Wynter Nytes
Summary: She knew it. The Order knew it. Hell, even Ron knew it, and he was denser than a box of rocks. What she didn’t know, and what they didn’t know, is when she was going to finally break. One-shot.


Hey y'all! So, this is just a little one-shot to help me continue clearing up any remnants of my writers block. **This is only a one-shot. **Don't worry, with 'Must Love Dragons', I definitely won't be starting any new long projects for a while.

**Title: **Verge

**Rating: **'T'

**RFR:** Some intense themes, but nothing extreme. Rating is mainly to be safe.

**Summary: **She knew it. The Order knew it. Hell, even Ron knew it, and he was denser than a box of rocks. What she didn't know, and what _they _didn't know, is when she was going to finally break. One-shot.

**Disclaimer: **I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter or any affiliates.

**Publish Date: December 1st, 2008. 8:20pm  
**

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Hermione sighed as she settled into a slightly dusty, overstuffed armchair in one of the many sitting rooms of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. A single candle on the side table flickered to life with the prod of her wand. Tucking her slender legs beneath her, Hermione rested her chin in her hand as she leaned her elbow into the arm of the chair. It was well past midnight, and everybody else had long since retired. Sliding her other hand across the ratted fabric of the chair, Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her body shaking slightly. As she breathed in, she could feel the familiar pricking sensation behind her eyes that was an indication of tears.

Gritting her teeth, her body quivering even more, she started to breathe faster and faster, willing herself not to cry. With her eyes clenched shut, Hermione focused on the tears and willed them to go away. After a minute long battle with her body and emotions, she appeared the victor. Hermione opened dry eyes to the darkness about her and stopped shaking. Jaw set and head held high, Hermione blew out the candle and left the room in one swift motion.

She had not cried in a very long time. Since seventh year, she estimated. It had been four long years since graduation, and the now twenty-something woman felt about sixty-something. Voldemort was still at large, and the Order of Phoenix was doing everything in its power to bring him down. Hermione was beginning to feel the toll of war weighing down on her. Hermione felt constantly on the verge of a mental break. The Order saw it, her parents saw it, hell- even Ron saw it.

It had started the moment she had graduated Hogwarts. As the brightest witch of her age, Hermione had quickly risen through the ranks of the Order, and had become invaluable to the cause. With that, however, came more assignments, more danger, and more stress. Hermione handled it well. The Order members often talked amongst themselves about how calm and collected she was in the face of danger. Her past professors marveled at the former bookworm turned skilled agent. Hermione was damn good at her job, and she knew it. However stressed a situation became, or whoever was pointing their wand at her, Hermione never lost sight of her mission. She had built a fortress of cement and steel about her heart and mind, and protected the fortification fiercely.

The first time she killed someone, however, a tiny fissure appeared in those stone walls. It had been a cold and dark day, heavy clouds and rainfall making any outing a miserable one. Fresh out of her Order initiation, she was escorting Harry to the ministry for a meeting with the Prime Minister of Magic. Attending with her was Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebot, and Remus Lupin. They had all apparated to just outside the ministry, when they were attacked.

Hermione instantly grabbed Harry and apparated back to Grimmauld Place, throwing him inside and slamming the door in his face before returning to the fight. Tonks, Shacklebot and Lupin were outnumbered by five Death Eaters.

With a cry of "_Stupefy!"_ she quickly brought down one Death Eater and turned to help the others, but not before grabbing the felled Death Eater's wand.

"_STOP!" _a voice cried suddenly, and despite their situation, everyone instinctively froze. A Death Eater held a wand to Tonk's temple. He slid his mask up to reveal the face of none other than Lucius Malfoy. Hermione quickly scanned the area and saw that Shacklebot and Lupin had managed to take down the other three Death Eaters before Lucius had gotten hold of Tonks.

"_Wands down," _Lucius sneered, prodding his own into Tonk's head, "_Or I kill the bitch." _

Hermione could feel Remus shaking in anger next to her. She motioned for him to follow his example, and she set down her wand. Shacklebot copied them both. What happened next was a blur to Hermione. Lucius was sneering and demanding they take him to Harry, when he suddenly gestured away from Tonks with his wand. The next thing Hermione knew, she had the felled Death Eater's wand out and was shooting the Killing Curse off at Lucius.

Tonks fell to the ground in shock as Lucius collapsed, lifeless.

Thus, a crack appeared in the stonework. Just a little one, but it was enough. Hermione had indeed killed since then, and with every bright green flash of her wand, the fissure expanded and split off into tiny rivers of stone grooves. It wasn't just the murder, however. Hermione cared deeply for her friends, and worried just as much for them. Halfway through their seventh year, Hermione and Ron had finally started dating, and had both been surprised by the amount of passion between the two of them. Every time Ron left on a mission for the Order without Hermione, more and more cracks splintered across the masonry.

Every time Harry escaped Voldemort's clutches, Hermione felt herself get closer and closer to the cliff of insanity and hysteria. She recognized this, and ignored it. Everyone around her saw it, and wondered when she would finally break.

When Hermione got to visit her parents, which was rare, they noted the stooped posture of their daughter. Her father saw the pale skin and dark circles, and her mother focused on the thin wrists and protruding ribs. They could never understand their daughter's world- they knew this and accepted it, so they never spoke up or asked how she was doing. Her mother suffered in silence, and her father tried to turn a blind eye.

Every time Harry saw Hermione, he saw the once frizzy hair become lank and unkempt. He saw her hands shake each time she picked up her wand or a spell book. Harry felt guilt overcome him as he realized she was like this because of him, and the battle he needed to fight. He once brought this up to Hermione, and her response shocked him. Hermione had grabbed his shoulders with a surprisingly strong grip and begged him to come to his senses. Her ferocity and passion exuded from her pores as she shook him and said that she would always be there for him, whether he liked it or not. Harry stopped asking her to be stay out of his battles, and instead invited her in. She became his rock, and yet he knew it was beginning to take its toll on her.

Ron would often lay awake and stare at her sleeping face next to him. He saw that it was the only time she was at peace. Hermione's face would relax and her breathing would be soft and even, not fast and hard. Ron wondered if his girlfriend would ever lay her demons to rest and open her whole heart to him, not just a fraction. It was nights like these when he would brush her hair away from her face and feel the clamminess of her skin, and her sickly pallor in the moonlight. When he could, he would gather her into his arms and hold her tight, as if he could protect her from her inner struggle.

The Order and the Weasley's and her other friends all saw the bright witch's light slowly diminish. They saw the brilliance of her eyes slowly die, only to be replaced with an ever growing wild look. She had become jumpy and oddly intense. They all saw this, and yet could not help. They all needed her to help bring down the Dark Lord, and so the assignments and death and danger kept being thrown her way. Yet Hermione took it all in stride. She never turned down an assignment, and finished each with skill and grace.

The crevices were widening. Stone was continuing to crack and crumble- steel was bending and folding. Oh yes, Hermione saw herself on the threshold of hysteria and mental collapse. She envisioned a cliff, and she was standing on its edge, leaning with all of her weight over the endless chasm below. The only thing keeping her from falling was a thin string pulling her back, its threads slowly snapping one by one. With each snap, she grew closer to the great drop she knew to be inevitable.

But Hermione ignored it. She often would find herself sitting in Grimmauld Place, on the verge of that collapse, only to reel herself back in seconds before the break transpired. She would breath deeply, pull back the tears, and move on. Hermione would keep fighting, but she knew she was not going to last much longer.

She was just waiting for the stonework to finally collapse.

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